Pasture Rose, Butterfly Weed, and other May Wildflowers

Today is all about the flowers.  The ones I drew were all growing on the pipeline, near the top of the hill where our bench sits facing southwest. It was cloudy and very gnatty, the kind of gnats that like to fly into your eyes and ears, which could very well be used as a form or torture. The Yellow-billed Cuckoos were calling from the treetops again today - Cuck-cuck-cuck-cuck-cuck-cuck-cuck-cuck-KALP! KALP! KALP!  and the ever present Wood Thrushes.  

There were more blooms to draw, but not enough time.  The rain chased me in with one hand clutching a fistful of flowers so I could finish up inside.

Lupine seedlings from northern California

It's a funny kind of day - warm and humid, the sun is in and out, and a while ago a band of showers passed by and chased me inside.  I'd been out wandering around checking out wildflowers on the back road - if you can call it a road.  It's no more than the roadbed, and even the clay is washing out into a small gully.   The honeysuckle grows thick and is in bloom back there, so the air was heavy with scent. Many non-native wildflowers grow along the road but are lovely anyway: Venus' Looking Glass, Oxeye Daisy, English Plaintain, Queen Ann's Lace, Carolina Cranesbill, Yellow Wood Sorrell, Spotted Cat's Ear, and Common Fleabane, among others not in bloom yet.  In the woods heading to the old road was White Milkweed, Euonymus (actually a shrub) and dainty Summer Bluet.  A Yellow-billed Cuckoo was calling from a tree above me, and added to the steamy morning made it seem more like a jungle in Africa than South Carolina.  Cu-cu-cu-cu-cu-cu-cu-cu-Kalp-Kalp-Kalp!  Our resident Wood Thrush sang his lilting, watery song as well.  Butterflies: Great Spangled Fritillary, Eastern Tailed Blue, and Red-spotted Purple.   I was lucky to see a wild turkey as he (or she) crossed the old roadbed and headed into our woods. 

After running inside out of the rain (can't have my journal ruined!) I noticed my pot of Lupine seedlings on the back porch. I had picked a dry seedpod last summer while in California, brought it home and tossed the tiny seeds into a pot not quite filled with potting soil.  I seem to remember that the once held a Gardenia cutting that had died in the drought conditions we were experiencing last year.  Anyway, I forgot about them until their small and wiry stems poked their perky leaves above the pot rim this spring. Now they are about 8" high and needing to be put out in the garden. 

I think I'll do that today.   

Tulip Tree Silk Moth and Lettered Sphinx

It was sunny, windy and chilly today, a surprise after the warm weather of late.  Walked the dogs at midday and tried to avoid the shade, which when walked through felt like stepping back into winter.  The wind with sunshine on my face was hard enough until I did some uphill walking and warmed up.  

The pipeline is lush and green after all the rain we've had this spring.  The Coreopsis blooms are at their best right now, the field filled with their waving yellow heads.  Many more bright pink Pasture Roses have opened up, and the ragworts still lend their bright shaggy yellow heads to the picture.  I trekked up to a certain spot where I know there is a large patch of Barbara Buttons that bloom about now... but about a month ago I'd see some bulldozers working near the spot.  This could have been the end of the BB's.  However, I found the flowers in fine shape and in full bloom just beyond where the work had been going on, and on the way back I found some slender stalks of Deptford Pinks.  Perhaps tomorrow I will draw these two flowers.  Today I hurried home to see if our visiting moths were still on the side porch, below the light.

They were.  And they stayed there (as models) all afternoon.  I pulled a kitchen stool out to the porch and was quite comfortable as I sketched.  

Deerberry and Persimmon

While exercise hiking on the pipeline today I did my usual looking around to see what I could see.  Occasionally, even while exercising and having to concentrate on finding good footing on the trail, something interesting will catch my eye.  Today was one of those days.  As I was heading up the steep cut-through that runs between clearings I saw a low-bush blueberry blooming, and ticked it off on my "head-list" of blooms for the day: Lance-leaved  Coreopsis - check, Ragwort - check,  Toadflax - check, Blackberry - check, Pasture Rose - check, Blueberry - check - - - it took about two seconds before my subconscious came through and made me do a double-take. “NOT BLUEBERRY,” it said. Then I remembered. The blueberries around here have not only bloomed, but the ones I studied just yesterday along the edge of our woods already have small green berries.  I swiveled on the ball of my foot and walked back to the bush.  Another difference was the size and shape of the open, dangling white blooms. First, it was larger, and second, even though the buds were “bell-shaped,” the fully opened flowers were open wide.   Blueberry blooms are little bells.  Because I was in a hurry (how I hate to be in a hurry!) I snapped off a short piece of a flowering branch and took it home where it waited in a small vase until later in the day, when I (with help from a friend) finally had the time to identify it.  We even hiked back to the bush to make sure. It was  Deerberry - and yes, it's in the vaccinium family with the blueberries.

On the hike down to the mysterious bush, we passed a tree with many small blooms along the stems, at the base of the leaves.  My friend said "Persimmon" and we looked it up, but the small blooms didn’t fit the description in the field guides as being 5/8 “ wide, and solitary.  Solitary?  These blooms were bunched in threes at the base of the leaves and none of the many blooms on the tree were  any larger than about 3/8”.   We climbed up the hill to where I know I've seen a fruiting persimmon in the past to see if it was blooming so we could compare the two trees. It was a tall tree so we had to use binoculars to find blooms. Hmm...  There's one! my friend said. But...  one?  Why only one - and it's bigger, isn't it?  We discussed it at length, until I finally read far enough into the detailed description to learn that it is the female persimmon tree that has the solitary 5/8" blooms, while the male persimmons are “bunched and only 3/8 inch wide.”  Oh! It's a male/female thing!   Mystery solved.  

We suddenly realized we'd spent over three hours wandering around in the woods.  "Almost 6:00?  It can't be!"  I said.  We rushed back to the house so I could clean up enough to go out to dinner at 6:30. On the way we found two more trees behind my house that we couldn't identify, but once again, I was in a hurry.  Those trees will have to wait for another day.  

So many mysteries, so little time!

Kidneyleaf Rosinweed

A creek in springtime is a magical place to visit, and little Meetinghouse Creek certainly fit that description today.  During my walk I stopped to see if anything was going on down there, and at first thought, "Nah, nothing here."  Then I heard a low buzz, and a Whitetail Dragonfly zoomed in and landed on a reed, causing it to bounce and wave for a moment.  A Spring Azure butterfly flitted down from uphill and sipped at the wet sand along the creek's edge.  Small minnows made themselves known by swimming through a patch of sunlight close to me, and once looking for them, I saw them everywhere, swimming oh-so-leisurely and then suddenly darting off... where to? what's the hurry? I wondered.   There were the bright round sun spots on the creek bed that showed the whereabouts of a Water-Strider (barely visible otherwise) as he walked around effortlessly on the water's surface.  

As I studied the Water Strider I slowly became aware of something else, something that reminded me once again of how important it is to stop and settle into a place if you want to truly see everything... along the creek bottom, as clear in the creek water as on land, ran a deep set of turkey tracks, heading downstream.  What a fun discovery.  I could imagine a lone Tom strutting along in the early morning and wading in for a Creek Buffet, getting his fill of insects, spiders, frogs, tender grasses and other tasty morsels.  As I stood there a Great Spangled Fritillary fluttered over the creek and stopped to rest on a grass stem. He fluttered away when four-month-old Daisy came running from Radu's side and splashed into the creek, snapping at the droplets she created as well as the butterfly.  So much for peace and quiet... and turkey tracks.  

On the way back to the house I saw a Blue Darner dragonfly zipping back and forth over a sea of yellow coreopsis blooms, a Checkerspot and a Sulphur butterfly,  seven Black Vultures circling,  and heard Chickadees and Indigo Buntings' songs.  At the top of the hill were the new leaves of a  Kidneyleaf Rosinweed.  I think this is the most beautiful native plant leaf that grows around Middlewood.   Years ago, when I first discovered the leaves growing on the pipeline, I was certain I'd found a rare plant.  It's neither rare nor endangered.  And although the leaves are large and ornate, the fall-blooming flowers don't live up to what you'd expect from such fancy deeply-lobed, carmine-veined leaves.  But they are lovely in their own way - small yellow composites on very tall stems, and they are a good source of nectar for butterflies.   

Beard-tongue and Ragwort

It's warm and windy today, with strong gusts that bend the treetops!  Wandered on the pipeline looking for a patch of mushrooms I saw yesterday, and as I stood looking down at the spot where they had been a big shadow moved past me on the ground.  Looking up I saw a huge red-tailed hawk just as he landed in a nearby pine tree.  The small oak in front of the pine had a hole in the branches that framed the hawk perfectly as he preened and fluffed himself up.  He was so close I could hear little noises and flutters of wings as he balanced and adjusted his stance.  His rusty-red tail glowed in the sun.  He finally saw me and flew off his perch with loud flaps. The strong wind buffeted him as he flew across the pipeline and made his flight quite ungraceful.

Another special treat of the day.... while I was drawing Beard-tongue flowers, a newly emerged Red-Spotted Purple butterfly wobbled out of the woods and landed on my backpack.  His shimmering blue and black patterned wings, with spots of red, took my breath away.  He rested a minute then fluttered up and over about five feet and landed again.  He kept making these short flights, over and over.  I followed him downhill until he finally warmed up and took off over the pipeline's waving grasses and wildflowers.  

Biotite Mica and Other Black Things

Wonderful spring rains today.  Storm after storm swept over us, drenching every tree and rock and blade of grass.  The sun would shine for a few minutes and tease you into believing it was over, then it clouded up again and BOOM! Boom, boom, boom... another gullywasher.  

The dogs and I took a quick hike between two storms.  I had my binoculars with me in hopes of seeing the Indigo Buntings that sing so sweetly in the trees along the pipeline.  They were there again. I heard them, I snuck up on them from the hill above for a better view into the treetops. I changed positions, coming at the trees from other angles.  Sigh... still no luck.  Oh well. I'll try again tomorrow.  I do so love to watch a bird sing...

It started drizzling again before we even got to Meetinghouse Creek, so we turned around.  On the way back I found a crow feather, solid black against sandy clay.  A little further on I found a dead beetle on the path, with ants snacking on the edible parts, the two hard, shiny wings cast aside.   The turkey feather came next.  It was delicately balanced on spikes of spring grass.  

Back at the house I sat on the back stoop and noticed the last gullywasher had rearranged the driveway gravel, delivering some chunks down onto the brick walk. We are lucky to find occasional pieces of Biotite Mica in with the granite.  The one I found on the walk is mostly quartz with just a thin layered section of the mica.  

Daisy was trying to eat the dead wasp. Yuck. I moved the wasp from her sight, putting it behind me with my other stuff, and realized that it all had something in common - the color black.  

Morel Mushroom and Sprouting Buckeye

Over the weekend we went to our cabin near Waynesville NC to open it up for the season.  It's a tiny place that used to be an apple shed in a long-gone orchard. You can still see occasional apple trees here and there on the hill, and until last fall one of the original, 130 year old apple trees stood guard beside the cabin.  It had been failing for years and finally it had to be taken down, but we miss its huge, friendly trunk and waking to the BANG! and roll of the withered fruit it dropped onto our tin roof.   There had been a big hole in the trunk that had been home to the imaginary mouse-friend of our 7-year old neighbor, Rose, so a section of the trunk now resides in their garden at the big farmhouse just up from our cabin. The spot where the tree once stood has the darkest, richest soil I have ever seen, with only a foot-long, narrow band of hard applewood that had been holding up the whole tree.  We wish we could plant another apple tree but the surrounding oaks, ashes, hemlocks, and cherry trees cast too much shade now.  So, yesterday we decided to leave the Christmas Ferns that grew around the base of the tree, add to them and make it into a fern garden.  

Behind the cabin is an old, unused road that circles the top of the hill.  A massive Buckeye tree grows above the road and drops its dark, burnt sienna nuts conveniently (for easy pickup) onto the flat, leaf-littered gravel.  We look forward to gathering a few in the fall for the cabin (see Buckeyes in a Red Bowl). Yesterday, though, I was amazed to see how many seedlings had sprung up this year.  They were about a 18" high and I wondered if this was their first year, so I gently pulled the leaf litter away from the base of one.  Sure enough, there was the shiny brown nut nestled amongst the old rocks.  The fat white stem and thick root emerged from one side and magically went their own way according to nature's law: up and down, respectively.  A beautiful sight.

Also on this road was a Morel Mushroom (I've never seen one before, but I knew it immediately), Violets (Common Blue and Canada), Winter Cress, Forget-me-nots, Golden Ragwort, Daisy Fleabane (much larger than the Common Fleabane), Ground Ivy, Buttercups (Tall and Hooked), and Aniseroot.

We had off and on rain all weekend - a good thing when you have a tin roof and a good book to read.

Spring Grass and Spiders

Walked early this morning, before the low clouds burned off, and had a steady fog-dampened breeze in my face that made it feel like a summer morning in the NC mountains.  There is so much going on out there that I tried to keep a mental list of sightings but couldn't keep up with it all.  

The first thing I noticed on the way out to the pipeline is that one of our patches of Mountain Laurel is in full bloom.  The tallest is about 12 - 15 feet high - it towered over my head as I walked the path my husband made years ago that winds directly beneath it.   Bees buzzed around the delicate blooms that glowed in the gray morning.

As I walked downhill on the pipeline I heard the musical song of my all-time favorite bird, the Wood Thrush.  They're back!!! (from southern Mexico/Central America/Panama) and singing their hearts out in our woods. They truly have the most beautiful song of all song birds. I heard three, I think, as I progressed downhill to Meetinghouse Creek, and then up again toward the far fence (3/4 mile). "Watery" is how I always describe the Wood Thrush song.  Other descriptions I've read.... "ethereal (oh yes!)," and "flute-like (definitely!)."  Also heard this morning on the pipeline near the house was the call of a Bob White! When we first built here we heard them every year, but in the last 8 - 10 years they have been scarce. What a thrill to hear these two birds within an hour of each other.

As I approached the steep drop-off before Meetinghouse Creek I paused to consider my path and happened to notice, right along the edge of the woods, a flash of color... not bright color, but a rich dark red.  Instead of heading down I picked my way across the washed out hillside to see what it could be.  It was Sweetshrub!  This is a common wildflower in the Piedmont, but until today not found on my treks through Middlewood or the adjoining pipeline or far woods. This discovery definitely added to my morning joy. Just below this spot is where the Green and Gold is blooming, and where the White Rattlesnake-root is sending out its large, fancy-cut leaves. Also on this damp stream-bank are numerous ferns, Joe Pye Weed, and other goodies. Out in the sun blooms thousands of  Lyre-Leaved Sages, Spotted Cat's Ears, Cinquefoils, Low-bush Blueberries, Dewberries, and as of yesterday, Lance-leaved Coreopsis.  The Gray Beard-tongue has swollen pink buds ready to pop.

So you might wonder about my journal drawing of grass.  Grass? with all those flowers and birds out there?  For the record I decided I need to try to learn about our native grasses.  I sat on my bench with a field guide and identified three of these before I drew them.   Anyone out there know the other two?  When I looked closely at two of them I saw the spiders.  Luckily I've gotten over my hatred of spiders and was able to appreciate and draw them.  Just hope I don't dream about them tonight!

Wild Blue Phlox

The perfect spring day... this afternoon it was 80 degrees with a cool breeze, blue sky, and a multitude of birds singing in the front woods near the house, where I'd settled to draw.  The Wild Blue Phlox is in full bloom in the shady woodland garden there, and the fragrance of its thousands of small blossoms wafted around me as I drew. Anyone with woods should grow this native wildflower for its spring event - a delightful pale blue cloud that shimmers in the breeze.  Also included in the charms of Wild Blue Phlox is that it attracts the Hummingbird Moth.  Today one was buzzing in and out of the flowers, sipping sweet nectar from every bloom.

Other native plants grow with abandon in this part of my garden...some might call them weeds. I know that, and  I keep trying to hate Hedge Bindweed (I think that's what it is), a climbing vine that truly does "bind" plants together in my garden.  But, the heart-shaped leaves of this vine are so beautiful, I just can't do it.  They start out a rich coppery color, with deep ridged leaves and veins, and a most delicate and sensual shape.  The vine wraps itself around anything and everything - maybe even you if you sit too long in one place?  

The other weed (native plant) in today's journal is Star Chickweed. We have a healthy crop of this salad green every year.  We have yet to eat them, but in case you're interested, I read that they taste best when boiled briefly in salted water and served in place of spinach! 

Tulip Poplar Petals

Home again!  Unpacked the car and headed out into the woods before I was tempted to take a late afternoon nap. I made a beeline for the bench to feel the breeze on my face after six hours driving.  

The bench sits on top of our high (pipeline) hill facing southwest and has a far view of rolling hills and sky.  I wondered if it was going to be too hot to sit on the bench, but as I emerged from the shaded woods I noticed that the shadows of the far pines had already moved half-way across the pipeline, and one particularly tall tree's shadow lay around the bench like a rug of cool green.  Very nice. I sat and Radu and Daisy moved on to explore the grassy hilltop.  I closed my eyes for a minute, then opened them again.  A few white cottonball clouds floated on the horizon and a high, thin cirrus wisp flew up and over my head.  The wind was strong and cool in my face.  

Ten minutes or so later I got up to wander around and see what I could see.  The Dewberries are blooming white, and pussytoes have sent up their fuzzy little feet from silvery foliage. Other flowers include Cinquefoil, Violets, Vetch, and Toadflax. Venus' Looking Glass is up with buds, but no blooms yet.  Several grasses are blooming but I don't know their names. 

On the way back to the house I noticed on the ground a splash of colorful petals from Tulip Poplar blooms.  They had fallen from one of our huge trees and were still bright, fresh, and sticky on the inside. Nearby a whole bloom had fallen, the branch tip snipped off by some insect.  I picked it up and found that it was filled with large, reddish-brown ants attracted to the sweet, sticky sap.  They didn't seem to mind my observing their sap sipping activity, and continued their business while I drew the bloom. 

I read somewhere that Daniel Boone hollowed his famous 50 ft. long canoe from a Tulip Poplar Tree's long trunk.  Looking up at our tree I can definitely see how this is possible.

Mulberries and Mosquitos

I'm visiting my family in South Georgia for a couple days and finally got a chance to go out for some journaling with my nephew, who is nine and also likes to draw nature.  We wandered about looking for something interesting until he chose a small oak tree with bright green, lobed leaves at the edge of the woods. We settled in the grass to draw. High above us in a long leaf pine, a red-bellied woodpecker kept us company.  His steady knock, knock, knock on the trunk was a nice sound.  Then came another not-so nice sound- the whiney buzzzz of a mosquito.  SLAP!  Then another whiney buzzzzzzzz.... SLAP!  Some we didn't hear, but saw them out of the corner of our eyes as they came in for a landing. SLAP!

Slap, slap, slap, slap...

We drew in our journals until we couldn't stand it then jumped up and moved to another spot.

In the side yard, where a breeze found us and kept away "the little bloodsucking beasts" (quoting my nephew), we found a mulberry tree full of unripe berries.  I saw a bird eating the berries and crept closer to identify him.  The closer I got the more birds I saw - in fact the tree was full of Cedar Waxwings, hopping from branch to branch, tugging at, picking, and gorging on the berries.  I carefully picked a small branch and took it away to draw, so as not to disturb the diners.

Great Red Uprising

So windy today!  Deep blue sky with big fluffy white clouds flying past... turning into dark, blue-black clouds, with thunderbooms and spritzes of cold raindrops, then sun and blue again!  

I was inspired by Judy, at "Down the Nature Trail" (see my blog list) to hunt for mushrooms today.  We've had a lot of rain and a few warm days... so I had hope, and that's what I did.  I hiked around the paths that we have throughout our woods...I went slowly and studied the ground in all the usual places. I took the path less taken... and the path never taken... I left the path altogether and headed into the piney woods below the house.  There are always mushrooms down there.  I've taken many photos of mushrooms there (check them out)... but there wasn't one to be seen.  The wind blew all the tiny, green maple leaves, the hickory saplings were just unfurling their tiny, fuzzy leaves, the fringe trees' blooms were out - but still green,  ironwood trees leafing out. Pines downed during winter and green, mossy logs abound in the piney woods, but no mushrooms.  

I finally made the full circle back to the studio and  decided to forget the mushroom quest. Instead I sat near our outdoor shower at the studio to draw the beautiful white Mayapple bloom.   As I studied it I happened to glance to the right to see the Great Red Uprising, right there, four feet away... Such power this red mushroom had, to rise up and shove the leaf litter up and away, to make way for its red cap and sturdy white stem.  The cave beneath looked dark and damp.  The red top was broken, possibly a result of the branch falling on it... the color was also "chipped away" in spots and along the edge, showing the white underlayer.  A small black beetle landed on my leg while I was drawing.  I carefully moved him to a leaf so I could see him better.  

Daisy was a constant presence during this field trip. She followed me around the paths, investigating every log and stump. When I sat down to draw, she put her paws on my back and looked over my shoulder...(the muddy pawprints will wash out of the shirt). She tried to sniff that thing I was so interested in, but I distracted her with a stick to chew.  She pounced on Radu (peacefully sleeping beside me) like Cato in The Pink Panther.  

I worked hard to keep Daisy away from it, but just as I finished drawing the mushroom... she sat on it.  

Catesby's Trillium

Took a walk with Radu early this morning before the rain came.  I'm so easily distracted by birdsong and wildflowers that I must listen to music or a book on my i-pod if I intend to get serious exercise out there, so today, that's what I did.  But, even as I moved out listening to Van Morrison, I noticed a few things... First, the breeze was out of the west, felt soft and cool on my face, and carried the scent of pine sap.  Second, some of the trees that came down in the snow haven't given up.  Two "reclining" wild Cherries are in full bloom, their lacy elongated clusters of white flowers dangling in splendor from each branch tip.  Also, one downed pine tree is putting forth its spring growth as usual, and has thick and robust "candles" making ninety-degree turns to grow toward the sun. 

Under the pine is a stretch of sandy clay washed downhill and collected in this spot.  In this I noticed many signs of wildlife!  Deer tracks, turkey tracks, Radu and Daisy tracks, Helen and Ben tracks, and fox scat perched right on top of a rock. 

Another little thing I noticed... many, many poison ivy sprouts! They are lovely, by the way, tinged with maroon, so tender and graceful.

One of my favorite native plants growing in our woods is the Catesby's Trillium, and on the way back home I noticed one in bloom.  (We have a patch of six plants that grow near the house, and other single plants dotted around, here and there.)  I dashed to the studio, grabbed my journal and pen, and headed back out to draw the Trillium before it rained.  I didn't actually finish the drawing because it did begin to drizzle.  Pooh.  I went to the studio and tried to remember and/or make up the rest. I finally gave up and moved on.... Sometimes this is best.

Whorled Coreopsis

The sky was so blue today!   Or did it just look extra blue next to the bright green spring foliage budding out on the treetops?  I worked most of the day, so my escape was much needed.... could that be why the sky looked so blue? Regardless, Daisy and I contemplated this deep question for a while from the comfort of our hilltop bench on the pipeline as the breeze riffled through those tender leaves.  I'm still unsure about the blue, but am absolutely positive that it was a beautiful spring day. 

The "old road" that runs the length of our property used to be the drive to the Camp Croft Officers' Retreat.  The building, burned years ago, is now just a brick chimney (with a great view) covered in kudzu vines.  The old road is home to several interesting wildflowers. The Whorled Coreposis plant, lovely on its own (above), blooms in the summer with bright yellow "daisy" like flowers.  It must like dry, rocky shade as it grows along the upper side of the old road, deep in the woods.  Also along here are Dwarf PawPaws, host plant for the Zebra Swallowtail butterfly, as well as a tiny wild blueberry, and Soloman's Seal.  

Dwarf Crested Iris

It cleared up around 3 today, so I went out to smile at the sun.  The rain had brought out so many more tiny green leaves!  A Tiger Swallowtail sipped at the purple creeping phlox draped on the rock wall, the Bleeding Heart and Wild Blue Phlox were beginning their spring show in the front woods. Birds were singing everywhere... it sounded like an aviary.  

The Dwarf Crested Irises grow around a rock outcrop in the woods below the house. There's a huge patch of them, and when they bloom it's an amazing site if I don't miss it.  Some years I get busy and forget to go look and completely miss them.  So today I walked down to see if they were blooming and found that they are just beginning their season.  This  "bloom" was the first and only purple to be seen.  I sat down to draw and to enjoy the birdsong, the sunlight, the warm breeze through the spring trees.  Daisy was in the house, Radu was napping... I was alone. A caterpillar crawled across my knee.... a tiny grasshopper landed on my shoe.... a brown and black beetle flew into the leaves beside me.  Otherwise, not much was happening at Middlewood today.

Rainy Day Fun

All day it has been rainy and gloomy... which sounds bad, but I mean it in a good way!  There are many wonderful things about a rainy and gloomy spring day, such as no pollen in the air; dogwood blossoms that positively glow; joyful frogs (in need of vernal pools created by spring rains to lay eggs); happy trees and garden; our part of the state moving a notch closer to being out of a drought.  Also, the birds' songs seem louder on a dreary day... as do the frogs' rejoicing croaks.  

For me the day was spent out of the rain -  in the studio having fun in a work kind of way.  A good friend (and talented artist) sent me a thick packet filled with scraps of various brands/weights/surfaces of paper for me to experiment with, each one neatly labeled with all pertinent information.  A wonderful gift!   The sketches above are little practice illustrations on two of the papers.

Bloodroot

Early this afternoon, while Ben hiked with Daisy, I  spent time in the woods drawing these little Bloodroot leaves that are growing along our front path.  They are not close to our big patch by the driveway, so I'm excited to think that they are expanding their territory

In the late afternoon I took a hike with Radu on the bright and breezy pipeline.  Bluets and Cinquefoil are still in bloom out there, but new things are happening too - the Green and Gold down by the creek have sent up big new leaves; Coral Honeysuckle and Carolina Jessamine vines are in bloom and already dropping their old, yet still colorful tubes of petals onto the ground; tall and skinny Toadflax blossoms are up and waved in the breeze.  Along with the good were two things to avoid: big patches of tender, sprouting leaves of Poison Ivy, and the quickly growing hills of fire ants all along the pipeline. 

Tiny Meetinghouse creek was a magical place today.  The creek bed is in a steep little valley that both blocks the wind and holds the afternoon heat, so on a cool and breezy day like today it can be quite still and warm.  Clumps of violets are still in bloom along its banks, while a flock of Spring Azure butterflies sipped from the sandy gravel nearby.  A Mayfly was busy, gently depositing her eggs in the still water behind a natural rocky dam, creating ripples each time she touched the surface.   Then, I heard, PLOOP!"  A frog?  I stood on a culvert recently placed by the pipeline (so they can drive their mowers across) and studied the slowly moving stream.  At first I didn't see anything, then out of the culvert floated a three-inch Green Frog, with one back foot hanging down, the other floating on the surface.  His head and two front feet were also at the water's surface.  I watched his body drift, drift, drift... he moved slowly with the flow until it came to a small stick that had become wedged cross-stream.  I was wondering if he would crawl over it or swim under it... but when he came to the stick he didn't move at all.  In fact, he thumped into it and his legs drifted around and honestly, he looked dead.  Oh dear, I thought. What's wrong? I watched him several minutes - no movement.  But as soon as I took a step toward he water he shot away in a flash to hide in a clump of old leaves.  Ha!  Do frogs "play possum?"  I don't know for sure, but this one seemed to be doing just that.

Back at home, while I sat on my bench at the top of the hill, facing the steady beach-type wind, I saw a flash of white against the greening trees.  I got up to investigate. It was a Zebra Swallowtail, flitting about in the warm sun.  When I got close he fluttered into the woods and headed down the path toward my house.   I decided to do the same.

Foam Flower

Went down to the vegetable garden around midday to water the newly emerging beets, radishes, and sugar snap peas.  It was quiet. The sun felt warm on my back, the water felt cold dribbling down my hand as I pressed the hose opening to make a wide spray. Occasionally the spray blew back onto me and made me shiver.  The seeds have just sprouted so from a distance it felt rather like I was watering bare soil.  

I don't know a thing about beets except that I like to eat them pickled, but when we ordered these from Clemson I pictured Peter Rabbit sneaking into Farmer MacGregor's garden to pull up a beet.  That would be fun to do, I thought.  Now I look down at the hundreds of beet seedlings and think about all those big fat beets.... what in the world are we going to do with that many beets?  It's probably wishful thinking to imagine them all making it, or if they do make it, to imagine they will be big and healthy, but we'll see.  It will be fun to come up with recipes and ways to cook a new vegetable. 

Once the watering was finished, it wasn't long before a bright, fresh Zebra Swallowtail fluttered up and over the picket fence and landed on the wet earth.  He sipped here and there and checked out the row of herbs, then fluttered on out again.  It's always nice to have a visitor in the garden.

In the afternoon I sat on the path to my studio to draw Foam Flowers that are blooming now, and Sweet Woodruff stems that are just coming back to life after a winter under fallen leaves. I left Daisy in the house, but Radu was my quiet and calm companion. He seemed to enjoy just being with me on the path's sun warmed pine needles.  

The Unfurling

This was the best kind of Spring day - bright and sunny with white cloud puffs drifting across the blue sky. Temps were in the mid 70's, (warm enough but not hot), and it was breezy, not so much that the wind-chill-factor came into play, but enough to make the pines creak as they swayed.   All the trees are leafing out, giving the woods behind the house a soft, green haze. In bloom are Dogwoods, Redbuds, and our state flower, Carolina Jessamine.  In song are crickets, wind through the pine boughs, lawn mower in the distance, and Carolina Wrens, Cardinals, Chickadees, and Tufted Titmice.... and more.  Beautiful day.

I took a nice walk with the dogs and then came back to my own back yard to draw.  Spring is always amazing around here when the Solomon's Seals start coming up.  Our variety is delicate with thinner leaves than others I've seen.  In the spring they unfurl from the leaf litter, their juicy green leaves bright against the crispy brown leaves.  

While I was drawing the unfurling Solomon's Seal, the Red-Bellied Woodpecker from yesterday returned to the white oak filled with holes from the Yellow-bellied Sapsucker, and sure enough, he was pulling something out of the holes... his food cache?  My guess is yes.